


Figurine

by yeaka



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3170078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Esca makes a toy for the little Seal Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Figurine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbeyjewel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeyjewel/gifts).



> A/N: Ficlet for my darling abbeyjewel’s “Esca marcus have adopted the seal prince boy and are cute with him and stuff” request. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Eagle or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Carving is a skill they both have, though neither have had much time to practice as of late. Marcus’ time as a soldier was preoccupied with other things, and he didn’t spend enough of his recovery after his accident properly relaxing before he went on his wild search north. Esca had little time to do anything for himself while he was a slave, but his skills, it seems, have been better preserved. Esca offers, “You do it,” because it doesn’t seem fair for Marcus, the one with the injury, to be out working the field while Esca lounges back. 

But Marcus insists, “You know it better,” and that might be true. Before Esca can ask if Marcus has ever seen a seal in his life, Marcus is off with a shovel and sack of seeds over his shoulder, ready to plant the next harvest. 

Esca sits down in the open doorway of their home, the little piece of wood and carving knife left in his hands. With his feet stretched out in the dirt, he spends half his time peeling away bark and the other half watching Marcus’ prone form ripple under the open sun, until the sweat works its way under the arms of his tunic. It’s only a very small chunk of wood, ripe and easy to slice through, so it doesn’t take Esca very long to whittle it down the right shape. The rest of the details he has to pick away at from memory: a two-pronged tail, little bumpy fins on either side, perhaps the slashed rivulets of whispers.

He’s gently poking in eyeholes when their little Seal Prince comes out behind him, pausing at his back. Esca instinctively shifts over to let their makeshift child out, but the little prince only puts his hands on Esca’s shoulders and leans over to look. Esca’s hands and the handle of the knife must obscure most of his view, but it must be enough to catch his interest. 

Often, he goes out to help them with the farm. But they never require it; they’re two grown men, and it’s a small plot of land: they can do it themselves. Besides, Esca gets a sick satisfaction out of seeing his former master working his fields. Now their boy leans down to rest his chin on Esca’s hair, and he asks, “Are you making another fish? Why? Marcus keeps starting eagles.” Just starting. He never quite seems to finish, but why is too much to explain to a child. Marcus’ faith and national pride is now a strained, complicated thing. Esca finishes one eye and turns it over to start on the other. 

“Carving is a good skill to have,” he explains. “It’s very... soothing.” And hones one’s skill with a knife, but again, their adopted child has seen enough of knives in his life.

“Can I make something?”

“Yes, if you find some good wood and are careful.” Esca can feel the little prince’s hesitation at that, but it’s necessary to say; they’re too far out of civilization to get help easily if he were to cut himself. Marcus might have made it a long way unconscious with a gaping wound, but that’s Marcus. 

After a moment’s thought, the little prince decides sullenly, “I want one.”

“Good,” Esca chirps, now finishing the very last of the smoothing out of the seal’s neck. “Because I need someone to give it to.”

Finished, he puts the knife aside and brushes the wood shavings off his lap, turning to offer up the seal figure in his palm. The little prince lights up in a wild smile. He’s old enough to understand the symbolism of it. Even if he had to leave with them for his own protection, he’s still of the Seal People, like Esca will always be a Briton and Marcus will always be a Roman. He gathers it up in his hands, then lunges forward to wrap his arms around Esca’s neck, squeezing for a tight hug. 

Esca, stifling a laugh, pecks his forehead and rubs over his back. As cruel as his father was, he’s a sweet boy, and he’s still grinning broadly when he pulls away.

Then he darts out of the house, practically skipping across the field, to where Marcus is still planting seeds. He rushes up and brandishes his prize, and though the wind snatches away their words, Esca can see the feigned surprise on Marcus’ face. They look at it, equally amazed, and Esca’s heart tightens in adoration for his family.


End file.
